Honey in the Morning
by dwilivia
Summary: It was strange that Hermione Granger never found anything wrong with this picture: Draco Malfoy, in her bed, touching her. Stupid potion and its stupid side effects. [DMHG] PWPish.


Honey in the Morning

by dwilivia

Rated: M to be safe

Pairing: Draco/Hermione

A/N: A little PWP. Haha. This was drawn when I was munching on Cinnamon Toast Crunch at 11 in the morning, tired and worrying about my exams. Sorry if it doesn't make sense, if Draco and Hermione seem to be OOC and if I've mixed up the exams and years and terms and all that, but well, I had fun. (: hee. PLEASE REVIEW! My first dramione baby. Yay.

For the past few days, Hermione Granger had slept in. She'd been up, for the last couple of weeks, studying into the wee hours of the morning for her O.W.L.S and everyone thought she was crazy. Her exams weren't for another few months (this being six weeks into the new term) and she was, very slowly, wearing herself out.

Harry and Ron had both told her that she was beginning to look like a walking zombie to both of them- with what, her late hours and her amount of sleep being gradually reduced on a daily basis. She'd given into their demands that she sleep more and worry less about her O.W.L.S.. After all, Ron had said, it wouldn't kill her to stop studying and take a break for a little while.

They'd conjured up a sleeping potion, with the help of Madam Pomfrey, to help her to regain her typical eight-hour-a-night sleep that growing girls like her need. The potion, however, had produced a somewhat of a adverse effect and it had had Hermione sleeping far more than an average person would. It made her listless, moody, and being overly tempermental in the mornings.

Professor McGonagall had suggested that Hermione stop using the potion and take a special room all by herself, and slowly let the effects of it wear off. In the mean time, she was excused from all of her prefect duties and classes. Hermione had spent nearly an hour sulking in her room after that.

People avoided her, mostly because she was rather tempermental these few days. She'd screamed at Neville for dropping their potion vial twice and at Harry and Ron for trying to take a peek at her Transfiguration notes. Everyone noticed this strange change in Hermione Granger, but, while it repelled most of the students it Hogwarts, it drew a certain pale blond who had started to take an interest in her.

It was a strange case of out-of-character-ness for these two, indeed, which the authoress has so cleverly disguised by averting the blame to said sleeping potion.

--

_Saturday. 3.55 am. _

Hermione Granger didn't appreciate being woken up at four in the bloody a.m. on a Saturday. She had much preferred sleeping until lunch rolled around (again, the potions' fault) or until the single ray of sun that shone brightly through her window onto her face got so annoying that she couldn't ignore it any further.

But four a.m.? Hell, no.

"Granger? Granger, wake _up_." Hermione heard a hoarse voice by her side, husky, she assumed, from sleep. She muttered something obscene under her breath as she turned away, rolling over on her side and drawing the covers over her head in an attempt to drown out the person.

But the voice remained adamant that she wake up, and when she turned back to give whichever bloody, sodding git had the courage to mess with her, especially at such inane moments of the morning, a piece of her mind, she paused in midturn, her sleep-worn eyes wide with shock at first, but then suddenly squint to adjust to the bright light floating from her bathroom just steps away.

Draco Malfoy was standing in the middle of the light, obscuring some of the brightness, for which she was only slightly grateful for. It amused her slightly that it created a sort of aura around him that gave her the lucridous impression that he was some sort of celestial being. But even squinting, she could see that he was, as he always were whenever she saw him in the morning at breakfast, fresh and clean from a shower and good sleep.

He was wearing his favourite set of black Slytherin robes this time, though they were buttoned halfway. Hermione gritted her teeth at the mere sight of him and sat up, running a hand through her long, messy brown hair. She'd let it grow over the summer, and it had come off quite beautifully a few weeks into the new term, even if she did say so herself.

Draco smirked at her, and Hermione leaned herself against the headboard of her bed, wearing an old, loose shirt of hers. She didn't wear shorts because the shirt was long enough to cover her thighs, and she forwent her bra, as always. She never did like sleeping with it on.

Hermione didn't say a word as Draco climbed into bed with her and kissed her cheek lightly, feeling her thin shoulders and sides with his large hands. She creaked open her eyes to peer out at him. His blonde hair was falling over his eyes and a brief smile touched her lips as she remembered how sexy he always looked.

It was strange that she never found anything wrong with this picture- Draco Malfoy, in her bed, touching her. Stupid potion and its stupid side effects.

But it had been a long time since she'd seen him like this- half naked in her bed, wanting her. Albeit it was a dream back in fifth year, but it was still a lovely sight to behold (and fantasize about).

She swore she saw him move his lips to speak, but she couldn't hear him. Instead, she leaned forward to gently capture his opened mouth with hers. Her tongue slid in as he was stunned for a moment in shock, and she could taste the faint remains of firewhiskey. But she pulled away the second he started to respond- the tease.

Draco groaned as her lips left his, annoyed at her sly tatics. Bloody wench, he thought. Her mouth curved into a grin, as though to taunt and agitate him further, and Draco let out a low sound in the back of his throat and pushed the girl in front of him back against the headboard as hard as he could. She winced, and he knew she had hit her back, but he couldn't care less. If she was going to frustrate him, she would have to pay.

Her mouth pressed into a thin line while she ground out, "I somehow always knew you'd be the sort to like inflicting pain." Draco smirked. She still managed a witty retort at him, even though the effect was somewhat lost as she moaned from the sore back as she shifted slightly. Draco smiled almost apologetically. Almost. "You know, I _do _like it rough."

Did he really? She wasn't very surprised. _Draco Malfoy likes it rough. _It registered faintly in her mind and everything else was suddenly blurred but this alone.

Hermione tilted her head up, offering her lips to him. "Is that a promise?"

His eyes glinted with mischevious sheen as he discarded his robe. "Oh yes. It _is_."

Her beautiful face, her carefree smile, her sleep-drawn, potion-induced, lust-filled eyes were the last things that he remembered seeing for a long, long hour after that.

--

At nine in the morning, Hermione Granger was finally roused from a relatively good night of sleep. It was the first time in weeks that she'd woken up before lunch time.

Her back was sore (for some unknown reason) and the spot between her legs ached a tad bit more than it ought to have. Her mouth felt like cotton wool, and she realised that her legs, when she tried to move them, felt like jelly to her. There she was, rendered almost immobile, and naked too, no less. She had realised that when she tried to sit up and looked down to find her bare breasts staring back up at her.

She was confused as to why this was all happening to her, and she scratched her head and moaned delightfully in relief as she stretched her (oddly) sore arms up high in the air. She rubbed her shoulders, wondering about the draft in her room (had it always been there?) and suddenly hitting a couple of tender spots. She stared down at the faint (but still present) blue-black, slightly reddish marks that covered the skin of her shoulders, upper arms and (she assumed when she rubbed it), her neck. They were slightly oval-ish, some with teeth-shaped indents in them. She raised an eyebrow at their questionable existence, and then, was suddenly interrupted of her scrutiny of her skin by someone clearing his throat.

She looked up to find a familiar, white-blonde, pale-skinned boy standing in front of her, with his favourite robe draped around himself, half-buttoned. He looked like he had freshly bathed and was now holding a cup of coffee in his hand and a plate of buttered, honeyed toast.

She smiled at him for a moment. "Hello." She said, finally comprehending the situation (she had never really been a morning person ever since that bloody potion). She caught sight of breakfast and beckoned him to her with a finger. Draco took the tentative few steps toward her, placing the coffee and toast down on the table beside her and then roughly claiming her lips with his own soft ones.

Draco Malfoy tasted like peppermint and coffee in the morning. She'd never really particularly liked either one.

Instead, she pushed him aside and reached for a slice of golden brown toast on her drawer and bit into it. "Mmm," She nodded, indicating that the toast was just nicely buttered, honeyed, and toasted- all to perfection.

Draco watched her finish her toast (he was a _very _patient man) but as she reached for her second slice, he caught her wrist, and pinned her down onto her bed. He leaned his face close to hers, muttering, "You have some honey at the corner of your mouth."

She smiled up at him, before reaching, with her free hand to brush the drop of sticky-sweet liquid from her mouth. But she was too late. He'd already licked off the honey before she could reach it and was starting on the sweet, creamy flesh of her neck.

Hermione Granger may not have been a morning person (ever since that goddamn potion). But somehow, having hot, Saturday morning sex with one Draco Malfoy had managed to change this small perception of hers. And Merlin be damned if she wasn't going to start waking up early from now on- _potion or no potion_.

--

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